


Sunshine in the Rain

by OnlyFoxMulder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s06e18 Milagro, F/M, MSR, Season/Series 06, alternating pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyFoxMulder/pseuds/OnlyFoxMulder
Summary: As Scully deals with the trauma of her attack, Mulder is there to help her every step of the way.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 22
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe I’ve never written anything about Milagro. It’s my fourth favorite episode, behind Pusher, Paper Hearts and Unruhe. The ending provided us with such a great opportunity for follow up scenes and I couldn’t resist. Everyone and their mother has written a story like this one but hey, it’s the perfect episode for added MSR. This is chapter 1 of 5! The M rating won’t apply until chapter 4.
> 
> Title inspired by the song “Lose Your Smile” by Beach House.
> 
> Enjoy!

Scully shivered as the bone-chilling cold spread through her body. She was vaguely aware of warm hands gliding up and down her back and the elevated heartbeat beneath her ear. With her fight or flight response still activated, she couldn’t focus on anything other than her rapid pulse and the crippling fear left over from her attack. 

At some point during her desperate cries, Mulder had coaxed her into his arms and carried her to his couch; she recalled the soft squeak of leather as their combined weight sunk into the cushions. The residual twinge in her sternum throbbed, visions of a phantom hand clawing at her heart and hopeless feeling of a few minutes ago returning with a vengeance. Fresh sobs escaped and she tried to burrow further into the warm body clutching her close.

Mulder.   
  
The flood of love and relief she felt when her eyes opened to find him looming above her crumbled her remaining resolve and he was there to pick up the pieces. Between hiccups, she inhaled his clean scent, nuzzling the bare patch of skin above his shirt. His hands roamed her back, his lips pressed against her hair.

She pushed the embarrassment away, willing it to come later, when she returned to her normal state of mind. She wasn’t used to displaying such vulnerability to anyone, let alone her partner. Sure, she had lowered her walls in the past: when her sister was murdered, during her battle with cancer, the loss of Emily. For a few brief moments, she allowed herself to burst through the protective barrier she erected and find solace in the one person she could trust not to hold it against her. That didn’t stop her from scolding herself for showing any small sign of weakness.

This experience was unlike anything she’d experienced in the past. With her cancer, she was able to come to terms with death and make peace with her fate. Tonight, she saw death and was spared; her life flashed before her eyes—a twisted cliché she found was true as searing pain ripped through her chest. A pitiful whimper escaped her before she could attempt to cover it up.

“Shh, Scully, it’s okay.” Mulder clutched her tighter, his hand stroking her hair. “He’s gone now. You’re safe.” 

His voice, spoken so low she barely heard him, gave her the courage to pull back to look into his eyes; she found them shining with moisture, staring back at her and wide with shock. 

“Muld-” his name froze on her lips when she heard the shrill sound of sirens approaching his building, reality hitting her like a ton of bricks. She would need to set aside her lingering fear and deal with the incoming storm of law enforcement officials… and Mulder, who hadn’t explained what happened after he ran after the lovesick writer. She needed to know before she was grilled by authorities. “Mulder, what happened? Where is Padgett?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said flatly, his fingers toying with a strand of hair. His touch lingered longer than necessary, stirring something warm and fuzzy inside. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Mulder, I _need_ to know,” she implored, her voice horse from her crying. “The police will ask me… I need to know what happened down there.”

He swallowed and she watched his throat contract. “What happened up here?” 

Before she could answer, the heavy pounding of footsteps traveled up the hallway, just beyond the front door. Scully scrambled out of his grip and off his lap, gathering herself for the onslaught of questions she would need to answer. Her breath caught in her throat as she instinctively went to straighten her clothing, fingers coming into contact with the sticky, wet substance. 

Blood. It soaked through her white button up, sticking to her skin beneath. Her hands curled into fists as fury bubbled to the surface; she wanted to tear the shirt and blazer off and rip them to shreds. As she took a couple deep breaths, Mulder came up behind her and unfurled one of her fists. His hand gripped her own for too brief a time, but her anger melted into appreciation. 

“It’ll be alright, Scully.” He dropped her hand. “I promise.”

* * *

Two torturous hours later, the police were gone and Scully paced the living room while she waited for Mulder to return. The sanctuary his apartment usually provided was tainted by the metallic smell of blood and the memory of fingers clawing for her heart. All she wanted was to take a scalding hot shower, crawl into bed and forget this day ever happened.

She would probably be there by now if it weren’t for the never-ending series of questions and whatever Mulder was up to in his secret bedroom. He went to pack a bag but hadn’t returned and she was becoming antsy.

Hugging herself for comfort, she ran her hands along the worn cotton of the shirt he’d given her to change into until they got to her apartment. Her bloody clothes were bagged and taken into evidence, leaving her without a shirt _or_ her dignity. Mulder, her guardian angel, offered one of his many gray T-shirts and the privacy of his bathroom. Using one of his blue washcloths, she wiped away the remnants of blood from her skin and tossed it into the trash. She’d buy him a new set. 

What was taking this man so long? Instead of waiting, she walked the few feet to his bedroom and peered through the open door. What she remembered as nothing more than storage for old files, dusty books, and various knickknacks he’d collected over the years, now resembled an average bedroom. The layer of dust was gone, along with the piles of mess on his long-forgotten bed, which was decorated with a cozy green comforter and large pillows arranged neatly against his headboard. 

His open duffel bag sat on his dresser, contents spilling out. For as long as she’s known Mulder, his idea of packing was grabbing everything in sight and shoving it inside until the zipper was nearly bursting at the seams. It brought a small smile to her face to see something so childlike… something familiar.

“Mulder?” she called, wondering where he could be hiding. His head poked around the corner of what she thought was a closet and she startled a bit, still rattled by the events of the evening.

The door opened and she caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a small bathroom. “I’m sorry, Scully. I couldn’t find my spare toothbrush.” He flicked the light off and stuffed toiletries into his travel bag. 

Back in the living room, he grabbed his leather jacket from the coat rack and turned. “Here,” he said, so softly she almost broke into a million pieces. He slipped the worn leather around her shoulders and helped guide her arms through the sleeves. It swallowed her whole; the hem fell past her hips and the sleeves had to be rolled up three times if she wanted use of her hands. It was the safest she had felt in days. 

“Let’s get out of here.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder continues to help pick up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally suck at summaries, so you’ll have to read on and see what happens! I hope you enjoy it. :)

Scully was quiet and motionless during their drive to her apartment, other than the occasional shiver he suspected had nothing to do with temperature. He cranked the heat up anyway.

As the car was jostled by turns and bumps, she rested her forehead against the cool glass, her breath fogging the window. He wanted to reach over and take her hand, anything to keep her from disappearing into her own head and shutting him out—her primary defense mechanism. Using what he had spent nearly seven years learning about Scully and the inner workings of her mind, he decided not to push because then he’d lose her. 

His jaw clenched tight, his mind and his heart wrestling for control. He was angry; furious he wasn’t there to protect her; outraged some writer thought he understood Scully and the deep complexities of her heart. It made him ill to think what could’ve happened. 

Flicking his right blinker on, he turned off the highway, stopping at a red light. The glow from the traffic signal illuminated the inside of his car. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t asleep, her breathing was too shallow and shaky.  _ This  _ was something Padgett could never know: Scully snores. It was one of the cutest things about her and he always wondered if a past boyfriend had made her aware of it. He was never brave enough to ask, so he allowed himself the indulgence when he caught her sleeping. Regardless of place, or depth of slumber, she made those soft little noises.

All he wanted to do was get her home and hold her while she fell into a  _ real  _ sleep, not the type she was feigning right now. Wishful thinking, he thought to himself. It was a bit presumptuous to assume she would be okay with a sleepover when she hadn’t given him any formal signal. When he offered to drive her home, her only answer was a polite nod and nothing more. The clipped discussion about leaving her car behind was the last words they spoke to one another and he wasn’t entirely sure whether she wanted company. 

Her apartment loomed ahead, along with the uncertainty about the events to come in the following hours, as he found the closest space to the entrance and slid the gear shift into park. Eyes open now, she gave no other sign of recognition, which sent his worry meter into the stratosphere. Pulling his keys from the ignition, he turned to her. “Scully? We’re here.”

In a daze, she glanced his way. “What?” 

Okay,  _ now  _ he was scared. “We’re here… at your apartment.”

“Oh. Right.” She exited the car without further comment. He followed close behind, all the way to her front door. 

“I… my keys,” she faltered, dragging a palm along her forehead. Then he remembered: her keys were tossed on his coffee table when they arrived earlier to spy on his neighbor. Neither of them thought to pick them up before they left.

“It’s okay. We’ll get them tomorrow,” he assured her, using his own key. 

Silence ensued as they entered, neither of them sure what to say. Scully flicked on the lights and moved to the center of the room, arms crossed below her chest. She looked so small, swamped by his leather jacket. He wanted to scoop her up and protect her from further harm. That was how he always felt after a major tragedy and in their line of work, it happened all too often. 

When she spoke, he detected a slight hitch in her breath and notable weakness he knew was from covering her newly fallen tears. “I’m going to take a shower, if that’s okay?”

Hold on; she was asking  _ him  _ for permission? “Of course it’s okay, Scully. It’s your apartment.”

Slipping the jacket from her shoulders, she handed it to him, waiting by his side. “Are you… Will you stay?”

How could he leave? “I’m not going anywhere.” He palmed her shoulder tentatively, warming her bicep. “Are you hungry at all? I can call in an order.”

“Please,” she nodded. “You know why I like; just pick anything. I’ll be out in twenty minutes.”

Scully disappeared into her bedroom without another word. Unsure of what to do with himself, he rifled through one of her kitchen drawers for the menus she had hidden. They slipped from his fingers and dropped to the counter as a sudden thought hit him: he  _ knew  _ Dana Scully. Padgett had his sick and twisted delusions but Mulder had the real thing. In addition to years of close friendship and trust, he had intimate knowledge nobody else had. 

He wished Padgett were here, only because he wanted to rub it in his face—as childish as it might seem to an outsider. Scully was comfortable enough with him to allow him free reign of her apartment while she was in a vulnerable position. She was alone and naked in her shower, yet she had full confidence in his ability to watch over her home and protect her. A sense of male pride washed over him, he couldn’t help it. Love did that to a person.

Love. It was love. He’d known that for years now. The total elation he felt inside each morning when he saw her beautiful, smiling face walk into their office was enough evidence of his true feelings. Coupled with the overwhelming boredom and gloom he felt each night, waiting for the next day so he could see her again, he had fallen deep. 

To think he came close to throwing what they had away for the sake of Diana Fowley made his skin crawl with anger; at himself mostly, but he felt animosity towards Diana as well. Scully was entirely within her rights to question his allegiance to her when he dismissed her findings and personal opinions in such a cruel way. Even the Gunmen called him later on and tore him a new asshole once the dust had settled. They often sparred when it came to strange conspiracies they managed to drum up, but they were seldom angry with him. 

Indignant at first, it took a long drive and a greasy burger from his favorite hole in the wall to see the light. Then, he called Scully. It was late, definitely after midnight, and he found her awake and willing to finally conquer the growing space between them. In the end, it worked. After that night, the air felt lighter; they allowed themselves to joke with each other again, even flirt a little bit when the mood struck them. He was delighted to have her back, the giddiness he felt every morning returned. She was smiling again, albeit less than she did before Diana, but she flashed him many of her cute tight-lipped smiles that made his insides turn over. 

He was so lost in his thoughts, he forgot  _ why  _ he was in the kitchen in the first place. The pile of takeout menus still rested on the counter, food waiting to be ordered. After flipping through them, he settled on their favorite sandwich place. Scully fancied turkey club sandwiches and Smokey’s Diner had the best one around. They also had fantastic french fries, something she secretly enjoyed but rarely indulged in unless she was in a sour mood. Tonight seemed like a good opportunity. 

While Scully finished in the bathroom and as he waited for the food to arrive, he observe her apartment. Sure, he’s been here hundreds of times over the course of their six year partnership, but he never looked past the surface level. Despite the wealth of personal knowledge he’d learned, much of her private space remained a mystery.

It was no surprise that when it came to home decor, Scully kept the clutter to a minimum; nothing was out of place and all of her possessions had a home. He didn’t know when she found the time to clean and organize between the long hours at the office and calls from him at a moment's notice. His apartment could be compared to a tornado on a good day and those were rare. 

The living room was equally clean. In fact, it was spotless. Her blue and white couch was untouched, he couldn’t find one crease in the thick cushions and pillows. He knew she must use it because one lone coaster rested on the coffee table, along with the remote to her television and a neat stack of books. He smiled, imagining her lounging on the couch watching TV in comfy pajamas after a tiring day at work. 

The set of shelves lining the walls were filled with framed photos of her family. He fixated on one particular picture of Scully and Melissa, standing together on the beach. Judging by the softness of Scully’s cheeks and the length of her hair, he guessed she was in her early twenties, possibly in California but he couldn’t be sure. He was captivated by her hair, falling below her shoulders in gentle waves. It was so beautiful, so shiny and healthy in the bright sunlight. Both she and Melissa looked carefree and happy and he briefly wondered who took the picture. 

Any further questions were halted by the sound of a door opening and tentative footsteps approaching him from behind. When he spun around, she was walking towards him, eyes downcast, with something balled up in her fists. In the dark, he couldn’t see the object in her hands until she stopped before him: his shirt. The one he gave her to change into back at his apartment. Her knuckles were white from clutching the gray cotton between her fingers. 

“Scully?” he asked softly, taking a tentative step closer. “Is everything okay?”

She raised her arms, holding out his shirt in offering. It worried him. She stood there, hair still dripping wet from her shower, timid and mute. It was uncharacteristic of the Dana Scully he knew so well.

Opening her mouth to speak, her voice was hoarse from crying. “Here,” she said simply, indicating the shirt.

“You keep it,” he insisted with a shake of the head. “I know you like my worn shirts.”

On more than one occasion he’d found her sneaking his clothing from his overnight bag. He never mentioned it since it would likely embarrass her and she’d give the shirts back to him, so he kept his mouth shut. 

“No. Not… this one.” He watched her swallow nervously, her gaze trained to the floor. “Can I have a clean one?”

To say he was shocked was an understatement, causing him to struggle with an answer. “Um, sure, Scully. You want one now?”

She gave him a sharp nod in affirmation, but offered nothing more. He took the garment from her and stuffed it into his bag, then rummaged through his mess for one he could spare. 

“Here,” he said once he found a clean shirt, this one black rather than gray. “Is this alright? It’s clean.”

“Thank you.” She turned on her heel and disappeared into her bedroom. 

Something pulled him towards her, an invisible tether forcing him to close the distance and follow her. She stood near the entrance to her bathroom, back turned to him. Her pajama top was tossed on her bed and she was rushing to slip the shirt he gave her over her head. Much like before, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the milky skin of her bare back. It was an invasion of privacy, but he was stuck in place. 

From the doorway, he tore his gaze away from Scully and let his eyes roam elsewhere, taking advantage of his unrestricted access to her bedroom. It was cozy, more so than he pictured when he tried to imagine her personal space. The room was similar to the rest of her home: practical and spacious. Her bed was huge, way too large for one person to sleep in alone, with luxurious looking pillows and sheets. Lead it to Scully to splurge on something she rarely got the opportunity to enjoy. 

From there, he scanned the simplistic side tables with matching lamps and the dresser opposite the bed. Another cluster of pictures lined one side of the table, four in total. Two of them were old photos of all the Scully children, the third was another family photo, but it was the fourth one that had his attention. It was  _ them _ : he and Scully. During the only holiday party they ever attended, someone snapped a picture of them together at a secluded table in the back. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulders as she leaned into his side, both of them had toothy grins on their faces. They looked so happy.

“What are you doing?” 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart beating wildly in his chest. She had a picture of them alongside her family and he wasn’t sure how to process this new information. “I’m sorry, Scully. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“By watching me undress?” To his surprise, she wasn’t angry. She gave him the eyebrow arch, accompanied by a small smile. 

“Uh,” he floundered, unsure of what to say. He decided it was best to try and be honest. “Would you shoot me again if I said yes?”

She made a show of checking her hip for the service weapon that would normally rest there, strapped in its holster. Tonight it was missing, bagged and tagged as evidence. 

“Hm. Since I don’t have my gun, I’d say you’re safe.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she closed the distance between them. “For now.”

God, she was perfect. Up close, he could see all the tiny freckles sprinkled along her nose and cheeks, rarely seen under the makeup she wore during the workday. It seemed like a crime to cover them up. The same spots dotted her arms too; funny how he never noticed them before.

Honesty time. “In that case, I truly wanted to make sure you were alright… and I was too distracted by your room to sneak much of a peek of anything good.”

She snorted. “Gee, thanks.”

Ignoring her sarcasm, he reached out and cupped her shoulder. “You are okay, aren’t you?”

It was a stupid question to ask in light of the evening she had, but it felt like the right thing to say. 

“I’m okay, just tired and achy,” she sighed, tipping her head to the side and studying him. “Thank you… for staying.”

“Did you really think I’d leave?”

Her mouth opened to reply but the ringing of her doorbell interrupted. Both of them seemed to exhale, thankful for the reprieve. Something was simmering beneath the surface of their conversation, leading to a discussion they weren’t ready to have right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully discuss past demons as she continues to sift through her feelings.

Sleepy and full from their dinner, Scully closed her eyes and curled her legs further beneath her body. The heavy load of carbohydrates from the pile of fries she and Mulder shared settled in her stomach, reducing her to a drowsy puddle of mush. They were salty and crispy and delicious, exactly what she craved and needed. Mulder seemed to know that because he ordered them without asking, he just knew. 

After they finished their meal, Mulder cleaned the dirty plates and washed the dishes, then promptly clicked the television on. While he mindlessly flipped through the channels, she cozied beside him and tried to forget the events leading them here tonight. She could almost pretend the scenario was different; she invited Mulder over for dinner and a movie.

Since they settled, she found herself inching closer and closer to his side, seeking out the warmth his body could provide. The biting chill seeped back into her bones. Her earlier shower was set to scalding as she scrubbed away the grime from the day, she wanted all traces of the case gone. It worked for a couple hours, but the icy cold snuck up on her again. 

If Mulder was startled or perplexed by her subtle advances, it didn’t show. At some point he slipped an arm behind her along the back of the couch. It was a welcoming gesture and gave her the courage to rest her head on his shoulder. Together, they mindlessly watched sitcom reruns until her eyelids drooped and her vision blurred. 

She must have shivered because he rubbed her bare arms. “Are you cold?” 

In truth, she would’ve changed into a long-sleeved sweatshirt to sleep in but the excuse to wear something that smelled like Mulder trumped her need for heat.

“I’m okay,” she started, another half-truth. “Just tired.”

“You wanna call it a night? I won’t be offended.”

Nodding, she reluctantly dragged herself from his arms and unleashed a huge yawn. Pins and needles shot through her legs as she stood up and she wiggled her toes to relieve the sensation. Mulder mirrored her position, rising from the couch; he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt and waited for direction. She wasn’t sure why, he wasn’t usually this shy with her. They abandoned that stage in their partnership on their first case when she decided to strip off her robe in his hotel room.

“Are _you_ okay, Mulder?” she asked, concerned over his sudden silence. 

He waved his arm dismissively. “I’m fine.”

“That’s my line.”

A brief smile crossed his lips. “I think I’m wiped, too. Do you mind if I use your shower?”

“Of course not. You know where everything is.”

He crossed the room to snag his toiletries and a fresh pair of pajamas. She stopped him as he headed towards her spare bathroom, the words surprisingly easy to speak. “Don’t sleep on the couch…”

His mouth dropped open, eyes widening. “What? You want me to leave?”

“No.” Her head shook in the negative to drive her point home. “I would feel better if you slept with me… I mean, if you’re comfortable with it, my bed is plenty big enough for two people.”

“Sure, Scully,” he squeaked, his usual low and rough voice now high-pitched. It was cute. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” she offered him the answer he needed in order to agree with the request. 

After a stiff nod, he turned his back to her and scurried off to the bathroom.

* * *

The butterflies in the pit of her stomach fluttered as she waited for Mulder to return from his shower. She could hear the pipes groaning from her place on the bed. It was an unaccustomed noise; she wasn’t used to hearing the comforting sounds of another person as they went about their evening routine. Her home was usually silent, cold, and lonely. 

The last thing she wanted tonight was more overwhelming loneliness. She wanted to banish her near death experience from her thoughts and enjoy the company of another human being—the only person she needed. 

Sighing audibly, she rolled over and collapsed on her back in a huff. If it was so easy to want and need him, then why couldn’t she reach out and take him? Even through her episode on the floor of his apartment, she wondered why they only got this close if one of them was in danger or injured and in need of medical attention. Just once, she’d like to seize her chance at true happiness with the man she loved.

Love. She couldn’t deny it any longer, it was slowly eating her alive inside and had been for years. They were either incredibly daft or simply blind because he loved her too, his eyes twinkled with it each time they locked on hers. And yet, neither of them had managed to conjure the courage to admit it out loud. 

A muffled thump startled her; it sounded like he knocked a shampoo bottle over in her tub, followed by an exasperated ‘fuck’ for good measure. She stifled a laugh, finding the image of a slippery Mulder fumbling with his bathroom products humorous. 

Movement continued on the other side of the wall as he presumably dried off, changed and brushed his teeth. A part of her wanted to sneak up on him and watch his routine from the door. Domestic Mulder has always intrigued her; even with years of hotel rooms under her belt, she rarely caught a glimpse of him performing mundane tasks like brushing his teeth or shaving his stubble. There was something so sensual in the art of shaving and she missed watching a hand travel over sensitive skin, effortlessly gliding across the contours of the neck and jaw. One day, she hoped the heavens would bless her with the opportunity to witness it again with Mulder.

Visions of a fogged mirror, damp skin covered by worn towels, the spicy scent of his soap filling her nostrils, as she tipped his chin to the side and ran the sharp blade along the curve of his neck, distracted her. When she blinked to clear her blurred vision, he was standing in the doorway, an uneasy frown on his face. A rare, pink flush sat high on his cheeks, probably from the hot shower. It complimented his deep tan.

“Are you going to come in?” she asked, shifting to her side. When he didn’t move, she turned down the blankets on the opposite side of the bed in a silent invitation. 

He hesitated, running a hand through his wet hair the way he does when he’s nervous or overthinking something he read in a file. His hand remained at the nape of his neck as he slowly approached the bed, pausing again when he reached the edge. “You haven’t changed your mind?”

“Not at all,” she replied, hoping her eyes showcased the honesty behind her answer. It seemed to do the trick because his muscles relaxed, the frown turning into a small smile. 

When he finally settled down beside her, he copied her position as he flopped on his back and moaned. “God, your bed is so comfy.”

“Beds generally are, Mulder,” she deadpanned, reminding him of where he slept every night. “If you’d stop sleeping on that ratty old couch-”

He feigned offense. “Hey! You love that couch.”

“Love?” She shook her head. It’s not like she hated it, but she didn’t understand the appeal. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“It’s grown on you,” he reached over and twirled a strand of hair between his fingers. The action startled her, she hadn’t been expecting it considering how timid he acted in the doorway. “Come on, Scully, admit it.” 

“It has,” she said softly, shifting closer to the center of the bed, drawn to the heat his body radiated. It was always that way with him, the distinguishable pull she felt when he was near. 

His fingers moved away from her hair, paving a new pathway along her jaw. The tiny sparks the touch generated caught her off guard; she was usually good at fighting off such feelings, but the storm brewing was sending her on an emotional tailspin. She wasn’t in control of her basic instincts anymore. 

She leaned into his palm and muttered, “Thank you for staying.”

With a warm and inviting smile, Mulder stroked her cheek. Her heart began to race. “You don’t have to thank me, Scully. I care about you.”

“Do you?” 

Incredulous, the hand lovingly caressing her skin dropped away, another deep frown creasing his forehead. “Of course I do! You’re all I care about.”

Now it was her turn to be skeptical. Before she could swallow her retort, they escaped in a rush. “What about Diana?” 

_Why_ was she bringing Diana up now? The old wound was only beginning to close and the mention of her name quickly derailed months of healing.

“Scully… we’ve been over this a million times.” He sighed in exasperation, managing to look as worn as she felt.

“And I still don’t accept your reasoning. If she was truly in your past, I wouldn’t have to fight so hard to show you you’re being lied to, Mulder; I wouldn’t have to resort to threats in order to get through your head.”

Again, why was she arguing with him? This was not how she planned on spending the evening, but she couldn’t stop. As soon as she allowed Diana into her thoughts, she couldn’t let go of the anguish. In an effort to cover up the pang in her heart, she defaulted to petulant bickering.

He took a deep inhale, his gaze faltering. “What do I have to do, Scully? Please, just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want your trust, Mulder. I need you to believe in _me._ ” With great strength, she maintained eye contact as she bared her soul to him. “I just wish we could go back…”

“Go back?” 

“I guess I want to go back to how we were…” she started, pausing to swallow the growing lump in her throat. “I miss having fun with you… talking to you like we used to. Regardless of the world falling apart around us, we always managed to survive together, stronger than we were before. But this—this Diana thing—has impacted our friendship and that scares me.”

“Why does that scare you?” he prompted, shifting into psychologist mode; she could tell by the intensity in his eyes, as if she was a case to study. This bothered her, but she quelled the itch to call him out.

In the softest voice she could manage, she whispered: “Because I don’t want to lose you, Mulder.”

Before she knew what was happening, she was crying, tears forming a hot trail down her cheeks. The culmination of fear, exhaustion and sorrow had finally broken through the protective barrier she maintained—her suit of armor stripped down to bare bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might be up sooner than usual since I’m stuck in the house. Thank you for reading! Stay safe and healthy!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully take the final plunge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a very tough time writing this chapter. As a rule, I don’t picture our duo having sex until (at least) Millennium. I also don’t like the idea of their first time occurring after a traumatic event. However, I set aside my own feelings for the sake of plot. This isn’t my best work but I’m posting it anyway.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this segment!

He couldn’t stand it when Scully cried. It was a rarity saved for the most dire of situations and when she unleashed those deep, gut wrenching sobs, his heart broke on the spot.

Their tense conversation was tossed aside the second he saw her lip tremble and her beautiful face crumble. He closed the distance between their bodies and enfolded her in his arms. Powerful shudders shook her tiny frame, reminding him of Antarctica and their frigid trek through the icy wind and snow. After he recovered from the initial shock, he carried her against his chest as bitter gusts stung his face, feeling her shiver. 

In the present, wet tears began to soak through his shirt and perfectly manicured nails dug into the skin of his back. Lost in the sudden memory, he hadn’t realized her arms snaked around his middle and clutched him tight. He struggled for the right thing to say to alleviate her pain, to show her how much he cared for her and would remain by her side as long as she’d allow. Instead, he rubbed her back and offered silent comfort, praying it was enough. He toyed with the hair at the nape of her neck in an attempt to soothe, relishing in the feel of her silky strands as they slipped through his fingers. Scully had incredible hair; it was smooth and soft, the color rich and radiant. 

When her weeps turned to gentle hiccups, he coaxed her nose from his chest and forced her to look in his eyes, to comprehend the upcoming declaration. 

“You’re not gonna lose me, Scully,” he promised her, swiping wayward tears away with his thumb. Teeth sunk into her bottom lip involuntarily, something she did when she was nervous… or holding back emotion. “You’d have to leave me, or I’d have to be forcibly removed from your life.”

She opened her lips to speak, but he silenced her with his assertions. “Even then, _they_ would probably have to kill me, Scully, because I wouldn’t survive. I’d leave if you asked me to, but only if you compelled me to go.”

“Mulder, I… I don’t know what to say,” she sniffed, her lips contorting into another frown. She looked pained by her inability to respond. He was overcome with the urge to protect her from those emotions, to take her into the warm cocoon of his arms again and never let go. 

“You don’t have to say anything, just listen to what I’m saying.” Thumbs still circling her cheeks, he gave her a small smile. “Diana doesn’t mean anything to me anymore, Scully. Sure, I loved her once, but that was years ago.”

“But-”

He dropped his gaze and shook his head in total exasperation and a touch of bewilderment. Dropping his hands from her jaw, he sat up and pulled her up with him. He wanted her to recognize the sincerity behind his profession. To his shock, she came willingly and held onto his hands. He took this as a good sign and pressed on. 

“No buts. You’re my partner. _You’re_ my best friend, Scully. _You._ ” She shivered when his hands untangled from hers and roamed up her arms. “I don’t trust anyone but you. The way I spoke to you that night in front of the Gunmen was uncalled for. I was blinded by my own gullibility and stupidity; I shouldn’t have treated you that way. You deserve so much more… so much more than me and what I can give you.”

The silence was deafening and he braced himself for the brunt of Scully’s wrath. It wouldn’t be the first time she was angry with him but the last thing on earth he wanted right now was a fight. He’d almost lost her, the evidence laid beneath the thin cotton of her shirt, black and blue from her unseen attacker. 

The words left her lips so softly, he questioned whether his ears were deceiving him. “But I don’t want anyone else.”

His head was spinning. “What?”

She clarified. “I only want you, Mulder. As a partner, as a friend—my best friend. That’s why I’ve been so upset with you. It hurt to see your connection with Diana and the blind trust you had in someone else.”

“You have me,” he choked. “When I saw you on the floor of my apartment, blood soaked through your shirt and smeared along your chest, my heart stopped beating. I couldn’t comprehend the possibility of losing you, Scully. I _won’t_ lose you.”

An emotion he couldn’t identify sparked behind her eyes, it reminded him of his hallway before all hell broke loose. That damn bee still haunted his nights, often interrupting their glorious consummation within his dreams. The way she was regarding him now, so open and trusting, brought him right back to their near-kiss. So close, yet so far away.

“Do you think you can forgive me? I know I don’t deserve it but-”

Two chilled fingers gently pressed against his lips, preventing him from pleading any further. “You’re already forgiven, Mulder. I just want to move on from it as best we can.”

What she did next paralyzed him, leaving him stupefied and immobile. At first, he felt her slight, trembling touch against his bicep, traveling towards his chest before settling over his rapidly beating heart. It settled there, the warmth of her palm thawing the ice in his veins. As if she needed to reassure herself of his presence, she roamed the spot in small circles, over and over again. The action confused him almost as much as it caused his heart to swell with affection. Scully rarely touched him this way, with such reverence and determination. 

Her hand traveled up and over his shoulder, then used his body for leverage as she leaned in close. His eyelashes fluttered shut when he felt the short puffs of air against his lips, her breath slow and steady. Before she could close the final inch between them, he pulled back and stopped the inevitable kiss.

“What are we doing, Scully?” he asked softly. “It’s not the right time… we can’t. Not after this case.”

She wouldn’t be persuaded. His concern had barely left his mouth when she descended upon him, her lips merely touching his own in a chaste kiss. Neither dared to deepen the contact, afraid the spell would be broken. Despite his reservations, the pull between them was too strong, too strong to resist. The rational side of his brain was screaming at him to stop. _She’s been traumatized,_ it yelled, _she’s not thinking clearly._

He wasn’t thinking rationally and the reckless voice in his head won the battle. Besides, maybe this is what she needed: an escape. He would gladly provide it for her if that’s what she really wanted. 

Suddenly, Scully’s tongue tasted his lower lip, tracing it lightly until his lips parted on instinct, drawing her in. Once again, he envisioned Antarctica and the spaceship he saved her from just in time. Giving her mouth-to-mouth was a necessity, a life saving measure done in order to bring her back to him. That didn’t mean he hadn’t turned over every aspect of the moment his mouth touched her since the moment he knew she was out of danger. 

The good guy in him knew it was inappropriate to dream about her deliciously full and pouty lips devouring him whole. He wished he could say the angel on his shoulder defeated the devil on his left, but that would be a blatant lie. 

During his quiet reflection, he was blissfully unaware of her tongue invading his mouth and sweeping across his gums and teeth. It was equal parts thrilling and concerning. Scully wasn’t reckless; she didn’t act without thinking through every angle with a clear and rational mind. Tonight was anything but clear or rational. She almost died… again.

Hands on her shoulders, he attempted to nudge her away and break the hold she had on him, but she only kissed him harder and deeper. Eventually, he folded; drawing her in and taking control of the kiss. She groaned when he cupped her jaw, increasing the contact between their mouths. 

It was finally happening. After years and years of mutual pining and unbearable sexual tension, he was kissing Scully and she was accepting him with open arms. Of course, he wouldn’t let it go much further than this. Not right now, but soon. 

Their kiss broke, harsh pants filled the room. “Scully… we can’t— _I_ can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

Lips glistening and swollen from their kisses, she pulled a face. “I’m not fragile, Mulder. Don’t let _him_ or what happened to me influence our relationship and it’s progression.”

“But-”

“No.” She inched even closer to his body, her breath fanning his face. “I know you’re worried I’m not thinking straight and you’re taking advantage of me but that’s not what’s happening here.”

“What _is_ happening here?”

A sweet half-smile twitched the corner of her mouth, eyes shining bright in the dim light of her bedroom. Scully has such beautiful eyes; crystal clear and as blue as the ocean. He was mesmerized by them. 

The tips of her fingers danced along the curve of his jaw, causing him to shiver. “Using my weakened defenses to take what I want.”

All objections died on his lips when Scully forced him on his back and climbed atop him like she’d done it a hundred times before, so bold and comfortable with her actions. Straddling his hips, she leaned over and kissed him, then rested her forehead against his own; a sacred ritual saved for momentous occasions. 

“Is this what you want, too?” she asked, the hint of insecurity hidden beneath her earlier bravado. 

In lieu of an answer, his arms locked around her back and one palm trailed the indent of her spine; up and down from the nape of her neck, down to the small of her back—his spot, the one he claimed their first year of partnership. He nudged her shirt aside, her skin unbelievably soft beneath his fingers as he explored the expanse of her back. 

Scully faltered when he roamed the dip of her waist, a gentle touch that acted as a catalyst. Her shirt was off in a flash, tossed across the room. The chance to openly admire her bare breasts, free of green goo, was taken from him as she yanked his shirt over his head and cast it aside to mingle with hers on the floor. 

As the pile of clothing grew, so did their combined arousal. Any lingering hesitation melted away as he felt her heated skin against his for the first time. He was dimly aware of the sloppy, wet kisses she was trailing across his neck, down to his sternum. The angle prohibited her from traveling south, so she averted her attention to his lips again; pulling and nipping on the flesh of his lower one in earnest. It wasn’t long before he was wiggling below her, wordlessly begging for what came next.

The angel and devil on his shoulders waged another noisy war in his ears. He desperately wanted to flip her over and have his way with her, but he knew tonight wasn’t the night for power or control—tonight was for loving exploration. 

“Scully…” 

“Hm?” She pulled back, staring into his eyes intently, not speaking. What he saw there stole the breath from his lungs, rendering him speechless. 

Dana Scully loved him—wanted him. The sudden epiphany had a strange effect on his psyche, as if he were sensing her true feelings for the first time. She seemingly read his mind, rewarding him with a huge smile, one he was sure he didn’t deserve. When he thought of all the harm his search had caused her and all the senseless suffering they endured together, he wondered _why_ and _how_ she was still standing beside him… or in this case, towering over him with nothing but adoration oozing from her every pore. 

“Are you okay, Mulder?”

He cleared his throat and managed to smile up at her nervously. “Never better.”

“Are you sure about that?” She grinned. “I always wondered if I would see your panic face again.” 

“I do _not_ make that face,” he asserted with a frown, unwilling to admit to this so-called panic face she spoke of. When she arched her eyebrow, he dug his heels in further. “I don’t!”

The gentle shake of her head highlighted the softness of her hair and the fullness of breasts. “Whatever you say, Mulder.”

What followed was a blur; a haze of desperate, sloppy kisses, interspersed with slow and exploratory ones. As their pace quickened, he mapped each freckle dotting her chest and shoulders with the tips of his fingers, then his lips, relishing the increasingly impatient whimpers from Scully. As much as he loved those sounds, they were threatening his resolve. Up until now, he’d been content with the slow buildup, he’d only wanted her to be comfortable and feel safe taking this major step forward in their relationship. But the way she was grinding against him and emitting those breathy sighs, he was finding it difficult to remain in the passenger seat.

Somehow he did, steadying her with the tentative grip of her hips, giving her time to further adjust to his size. She seemed to take comfort in his encouraging touch, the slight tension he felt evaporating as she began to rock against him. 

Their lovemaking was tender and passionate—exactly how he imagined it would be. He would never forget the glide of her soft thighs along the skin of his sides, the sting of her nails scraping his chest, or the earth-shattering sensation as orgasm overtook her.

The quaking of her body triggered his own release; under a spell, he somehow managed to catch her as she collapsed against his chest, arms locked against his side. They breathed in unison, sweat cooling. He silently rubbed her back, taking pleasure in the soft sighs his hands elicited.

Countless minutes passed; he didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until her breathing evened out and her muscles relaxed. He continued to run his fingers along her spine, soothing himself in the process. The fear of what the morning would bring for them abated as he cozied himself beneath his warm Scully-blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go! Thank you for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after her attack brings peace for Scully and Mulder.

The delicious smell of food cooking beckoned her from a deep slumber. When her eyes opened, she was surprised to find the bed rumpled and empty of the second body she expected to see snuggled beside her. The bedroom was still cast in semi-darkness, the early morning sun hiding behind a thick layer of clouds. She could hear the rhythmic tapping of rain as it pummeled the roof and windows. 

Wiping the remaining cobwebs of sleep from her eyes, she threw the blanket off and went to investigate the sound of clinking silverware and the mouth-watering aroma coming from her kitchen. She quickly slipped on her discarded clothes from the night before and went in search of Mulder.

When she found him, he had his back to her as he flipped a browning pancake over in a pan. An additional frying pan was sizzling away on the other burner. Two glasses of orange juice sat on the kitchen island, along with two plates and assorted cutlery. Too astonished by the man cooking in front of her stove, she almost failed to notice his disheveled hair and the bareness of his back. 

It’s been years since she was able to wake to breakfast being made by a member of the opposite sex… even longer since the man was shirtless. She felt a scorching heat rise in her cheeks and turned to head back to the bedroom to compose herself but was halted by the deep, gravelly voice she knew so well. 

“Good morning, Scully,” he beamed, transferring strips of bacon to their plates. “I hope you don’t mind but I raided your fridge.”

Crossing her arms across her chest, she took a couple of tentative steps towards the counter. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

Mock hurt crossed his features. “Of course I can cook! Besides, breakfast food is easy.”

Despite any lingering questions about their relationship and emotional struggle related to her attack, the air between them was surprisingly light. She always felt safe with Mulder, his loyalty and unwavering support provided much needed stability in their often precarious lives and career. And this morning, she was experiencing the full extent of his protective presence. She had to cover her small smile with her hand.

“Is that a smile I see, Scully?”

Mulder never missed a thing; a quality that she both admired and sometimes loathed when she was the subject of his scrutiny. Unable to formulate a proper retort to his question, she tried to divert his attention elsewhere. “How long have you been up?”

He sat across from her and downed nearly half his juice in one gulp. “About a half hour. The rain woke me, so I figured I’d make myself useful. I hope you don’t mind.”

Unable to resist the meal before her, she took a bite of bacon and nearly moaned as the first taste touched her tongue. It had been a while since she indulged in anything other than lean protein and healthy vegetables, so the salt and fat tasted almost as good as Mulder. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a meal cooked for me,” she admitted fondly. She’d always known her approval meant to him and judging by the dorky grin on his face, her praise pleased him. “Thank you, Mulder.”

A wave of his hand brushed her off. “You don’t have to thank me. It was no trouble. You deserve it.”

Silence stretched between them as they ate, clearly lost in their own thoughts. The quiet was easy and pleasant but she could sense something churning beneath the surface. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but she wasn’t able to decipher it just yet.

Instead, she occupied herself with watching Mulder enjoy the fruits of his labor with gusto. While she was still working on her first pancake, he was already moving on to his third and drizzling it with a river of sweet syrup. She knew he made good use of the gym, including his very active swim schedule, but his ravenous appetite always mystified her. He was in peak physical condition; evidence of that fact was sitting directly across from her wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. 

She continued to observe his every move, nearly dropping her fork when the pink tip of his tongue peaked out and licked a droplet of sugary syrup off his lower lip. Memories of what that mouth could do played back in her mind like a movie, a highly erotic movie. 

The decision to make the first real move came without realizing it. One second she was arguing and the next, she was kissing him. It was instinctual, born out of six years of yearning for the additional closeness a romantic relationship would bring. In spite of the ongoing tension regarding his alliance with his former partner, he’d been making strides to prove his allegiance didn’t lie with Diana. That gave her the additional push she needed, though the timing wasn’t perfect.

“Are you alright, Scully? You’re not eating.” He nodded in the direction of her half-eaten meal and offered a timid smile. 

Fork in hand, she took another bite and nodded. Washing it down with a hearty sip of her drink, she appeased his concern. “Yes… better than I probably should be considering…”

“Considering what?” His whipped puppy lip pouted in protest, his soulful hazel eyes wide. He could ask her for anything in the world and she would agree when he flashed her those puppy dog expressions. 

“It’s not what you think,” she reached across the countertop and took his free hand. “I don’t regret us, Mulder.”

He visibly relaxed, holding her hand. “What about… um, what about-”

“My attack?” she finished for him and he gave her a stiff nod. “Truthfully, I’m doing better than I expected. I’m still confused, but that comes with the territory.”

“Is there anything else I can do?”

A mirthful smile pulled at her lips and she squeezed his hand in appreciation. “Just be here with me. That’s all I need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! - Karra


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